


To My Trolls

by Malsang



Series: Additional Perspectives on the Dusking of the Third Age of Arda [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Companion Piece, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Metafiction, One Shot, Other, POV First Person, Philosophy, Pre-Relationship, Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 02:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malsang/pseuds/Malsang
Summary: The Author and Author's Middle-Earth OC speak as one to the trolls of their respective worlds in defiance of the common-sense warning 'Do not feed the Trolls'Warning: Contains spoilers for author's main headcanon-works theme.





	To My Trolls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



I know you exist. If I look too hard for you out there, I know that I will call you down upon me by the Laws of Attraction.

The warg in my mind calls me a senseless whelp for such behaviour, but where is the line between bravery and stupidity? Perhaps it is where the idea of 'things like that happen to other people' blurs into 'things like that hurt me'.

What is our conscience, but that memory-echo in our mind, of all the voices of the people which other people do not really want to listen to? Is that really what is wrong with the world today? Or is it the only thing that can truly be wrong with us? Is our own conscience, in truth, our own worst enemy?

It is said that 'Everyone wants to change the world, but no-one wants to Change'. Yet it is also said that 'It is impossible to please everyone'. Who then, is it impossible, as opposed to merely improbable, to please and why should they not be listened to?

I have only one category of such impossible people to please that should not be listened to, but instead be cornered into changing themselves. And they do not speak like common Mountain Trolls, but Elven Healers.

I have never awoken from a dream to recall seeing anyone who was not of the Race of Men, until my Lord Elrond Peredhel started to haunt me in my sleep. He is my personal nightmare I believe, for if I am his patient, I should name him my enemy, and not my friend.

Only the voice of authority can convince us that there is something wrong with us. Yet this voice can be echoed in mimicry by everyone subject to that same authority. This voice is ever-present, even in the privacy of our minds, as Doubt.

The worst thing I ever heard said, and not even about me, was by someone otherwise blameless in all regards. A trusted volunteer speaking to a friend about another volunteer, said only in her exasperation over the challenges of organising a charitable gathering, "And just like everyone else who wants to help, he is on the Spectrum."

And no matter how much it hurt to hear, the person I ended up feeling most sorry for, was her. For she condemned herself with that attitude. She who wants so much to help others, defiled herself and everything she believes in, with one statement of an attitude of unthinking condemnation that will be the death of her someday. When she is, one-day, too sick to help herself let alone anyone else, what will she value herself as then, if not equally 'unfit to serve'? What therefore can await her in her darkest hour, but Death?

Yet it was no common troll whose attitudes she was mimicking, but those of the most trusted of Healers. Who else has the authority to denounce one's fitness based on medical proof that there is something incurably Wrong with a person? What enemies can be considered worthy opponents, save those who claim to be Saviours through healing who pronounce anything incurable? Those who are so arrogantly sure that something is Wrong in the first place, that therefore they may justify their own existence by purporting to be the only ones capable of offering salvation, yet not to all.

There is no more dangerous creature on a battlefield than an elf. None capable of harnessing greater destructive force in the war against those denounced as evil, than a healer-warrior. Therefore I say not, that Sauron - or even Morgoth - is the true Enemy of Middle-Earth. Neither the bearers of Rings of Fire or Water - dangerous warmongers though they may be in their own right. I say not, that it is the One Ring that is to be most feared; but the Ring of Air and thus, the ultimate Ring of Power of a Healer. I say it is the quietest member of the White Council, and the Lord of Hospitality, that is the hidden enemy of Middle-Earth.

And I say this not so much because I have reasoned it when awake - whilst in relative control of my own mind - but because I have seen it in my dreams; where that which is unthinkable and illogical, unable to be inferred and justified immediately when awake, can be seen writ blatantly before the mind's-eye.

The question only remains, having established who should not be listened to, how to cure the incurable. For He cannot denounce me, without unknowingly condemning himself in the same manner. If He cannot be saved, then neither can Middle-Earth. And neither, therefore, can I.

Blatant enemies are not the Enemy - they are merely practise. How can Doubt know its place, if Healers do not know theirs? How can Healers know their place, if Warriors do not know theirs? How can War be over, if anyone is seen to have lost?

I have read of war. I have been tutored in its history and its mundane practicalities. History is written by the victors, trying to justify that they were not the ones in the wrong. But if anyone is wrong, surely it follows that everyone is wrong. I read the names of the fallen, and they are uncountable on all sides. If this is 'winning', then it is synonymous with 'losing'. In all wars to date, there were no winners - everyone lost.

No-one wins unless we all win. Light or Dark, scholar or troll; at the end of the day, we are all People. The rights of one are the rights of all, or none have any. However much we may wish that life was as simple as loosing arrows at a clearly evil enemy, nothing worth having is that simple to obtain.

'Why can't we all be friends'? It's hardly a simple question. First we must define what a friend even is, and then decide if it really is clearly different to an enemy. Then we must decipher if a friend can even exist except relative to an enemy. Whether in fact, the entire reason for Reason to exist, is to make it possible to Befriend the ultimate Enemy - the Doubt hidden away in our own hearts and minds.

And so my frienemy Trolls, I say unto you, not 'may the dawn take you all', but 'may we meet on the Darkside of the Moon'. For you are not Morgoth, merely practise. And Morgoth is not Doubt, merely practise. And Doubt is not the Enemy, merely not yet Befriended.

Where is the line between Bravery and Stupidity? I say it is ultimately Stupid to seek to kill Doubt, for we condemn ourselves to senseless death without it. Yet that it is ultimately Brave to seek to befriend the Enemy, however suicidal that may appear at first: For in this, Doubt is our greatest ally keeping us alive; offset by Belief and Willingness strong enough not to be crippled by faithless Doubt.

Hail To My Trolls - may the dusk take me and call us akin - to your continuing health and long life; may moonlight be the brightest light you ever see, whether or not I ever get to meet you and call you ally, my goblinic brothers in Darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional credit to / Recommended music Pink Floyd: Breathe, Brain Damage

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Evolution of the Serpentine Autophage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626268) by [Malsang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malsang/pseuds/Malsang)




End file.
